


some things never do change

by DearOne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-01
Updated: 2007-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearOne/pseuds/DearOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ordinary day isn't really ordinary at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some things never do change

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from a song by Something Corporate.  
> There is a direct quote from HBP in this. I'm sure you can locate it, or maybe it wasn't from the book, maybe I completly lost it?  
> THE WARNING TO THIS FIC IS CONSIDERED SPOILERY. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ THE WARNINGS, PLEASE CLICK ON THE END 'NOTES'

_[Sometime in the afternoon]_

The day is wrong. 

The cloudless blue sky holds up a bright sun. The kind of sun that doesn't just bring light, but also warmth from its rays. The birds chirp a merry song as they fly from tree to tree. The breeze is cool against my skin as I sit outside on the patio, the patio that Harry so proudly built. The day is beautiful. And seemingly perfect. I sip a raspberry ice tea with a book in hand, on Tristan and Isolde, but it is left unopened. 

The day is not perfect. Something is not right.

The day offers the best of summer weather in the middle of winter, but that is not what makes the day wrong. What makes the day wrong is that the day does not  _feel_  right. 

I judge the time with every passing car, and how long it takes for my stomach to unclench and clench again when I realize that the car that passes, is not the car I am waiting for.

 _[An hour and eighteen clenches later]_

I see Granger-Weasley pull-up in the paved driveway. She doesn’t normally visit when Harry is not home. She works with Harry, she  _knows_ he is not home. My stomach refuses to unclench.

She walks unsurely. This is not how Hermione walks. Her eyes are to the floor, but I know she sees me. She makes her way in front of me, while my heart beats with each of her faltering steps. 

When she is inches away from me. When I could feel her heated gaze upon me. When she opens her mouth and no words leak out, my heart stops. She doesn’t need to say anything; I know. The warmth that the sun gave me, leaves me. My blood runs cold.

I know.

Harry is gone.

I wait for what seems like hours for the sun to warm my frozen body. I can't move. But then I realize that temperature played no part in freezing my heart and turning me into stone.

Like a robot, I stand up from the porch swing. The porch swing that Harry and I sat in every day since the day it was built. The swing that I will no longer sit in because Harry will not be there next to me.

I want to run away. 

But I don’t. 

I don’t even have feelings because I don't want to cry. Shouldn't I cry? Or maybe I don't want to cry, because I can't. Merlin, I want to cry but the tears just won't come. It's not the day that is wrong. I am wrong.

This is probably how those robot things feel; if they could feel. Like those plastic moving dogs that Harry had pointed out to me in a window. Ugly little things. Harry said that there's no life in them. They move on programs and batteries--whatever those are. But I bet that if those things could, they would want to cry. The Tin-Man in that one de-ve-de that Harry put in the ve-se-ar-- _Wizard of Oz_ , was it? Well, he could feel. He could of cried.

Even a robot feels. I'm no Tin-Man. I am, however, someone who is fucking thinking of the Tin-Man, moments after learning that my life partner just died. Died! 

And I can't even cry! How hard is it to produce tears? To feel?

I want this day to not exist. I want Harry.

I walk into the house because that's what my legs decided to do. Apparently, I can't control my body anymore, and frankly, I don't care. And besides I made dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs. M&M cookies for dessert, Harry’s favorite.

Granger-Weasley had followed me into the house. I don’t hear her. Her face is scrunched. Her eyes are watery with tears. Tears threaten to fall. And then falling.

Damn her for being able to cry. Damn her for not being a fucking robot.

I press the plate of cookies into her hands. I don’t eat M&M cookies. I hate M&Ms. I hate how every color tastes the same. Harry loved them because all the colors had the same taste. I never want to see M&M cookies again.

Granger-Weasley hugs me. Tightly. I can’t seem to wrap my hands around her. “Bring him home.” I hear a voice whisper. It sounded like me, but I don't remember opening my mouth and having the breath to say it. And why would I ask for an impossible task? Everyone will want the body, the Ministry probably has the body, if not, it's still at the hospital. But it's Harry's body. I want Harry. That's all I want.

Granger-Weasley nods, and disappears. I’m alone.

 _[Earlier that morning]_

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

“What do you plan to do today?”

“Save the world.”

“Ah, no rest for a hero.”

“Someone has to do it. Don’t leave me today, Harry.”

“I’m not leaving you. I‘ll be home before you know it.”

 _[Later on that day]_

Granger-Weasley brought him home. But Harry was wrong, he did leave me.

 _[Several days later]_

To the average observer, Harry looks as if he is only sleeping. I’m not the average observer. I know this is not how Harry sleeps. Harry sleeps on his side, his chest to my back. When Harry sleeps, he holds me.

This is not my Harry who is dressed to the nines, who has his hair slicked back, who is not smiling and saying lame jokes. This is not my Harry.

My Harry is gone. This is our ending.

I deserve this bitter ending.

It was the catch to being loved and loving Harry Potter. Who deserves such happiness?

 _[Eleven years ago]_

"You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I've done!" 

“You know what I’m capable of, you know what I’ve done. And you still love me. I know you do. So let me love you.”

 _[Twenty-three years later]_

The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. The wind caresses my skin. Goosebumps trail up my arms as blood drips down.

Your body lies six feet down. Your spirit is all around me. Your laughter resounds in my ears. Your eyes twinkle when I close mine.

You never did leave me. Thank you, for loving me. Thank you, for letting me love you.

This day feels right.

This day is my end. And maybe a new beginning.

 **End**

::::::

Author's note(s): Yes,  _this_  has been done and done again, and done far better than this. But, whatever.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH


End file.
